


Kleptomaniac - Tim Drake x Reader

by crazykitty120



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22427113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazykitty120/pseuds/crazykitty120
Summary: You're a master thief who wants to steal Tim Drake's boxers as a joke? Wild, I know.(PG, you're literally just stealing them for a challenge.)Also, takes place after Battle for the Cowl, during the Red Robin solo comic (kind of)
Relationships: Tim Drake & Reader, Tim Drake/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Kleptomaniac - Tim Drake x Reader

The clock stuck 11 PM, and you started getting dressed. Black baggy pants with deep pockets, a black long-sleeved fleece turtleneck (cold prevention is a real thing), black gloves, and your signature black fabric sick mask, looped behind your ears. You took note of yourself in the mirror, and smirked. You laced up your boots, tied back your hair, put on a black baseball cap, then headed out the door of your apartment. You walked up the stairs, then exited the door to the roof. You ran. 

You jumped from building to building, watching the ground disappear and return every two seconds. The neon lights accentuated all the right corners of the alleys, dimly lighting the streets of Gotham enough to see, but poorly enough that a sense of secrecy filled the cold air that nipped at your skin. This was all you needed. Well, that and you needed to get to Wayne Manor. You had a bet with yourself that you weren’t keen on losing. You were a noted local thief that no one had managed to catch, and you were thrilled about it. There’s nothing closer to euphoria than the art of stealing. Tonight’s target was a simple, the boxers of a certain Tim Drake-Wayne.

Why boxers? Fabulous question. You knew it was kind of crazy but a) he probably had tons, he’s a different breed of rich, and b) you got this giddy feeling every time you thought about the idea of stealing something so, well, scandalous. People don’t steal underwear, they steal things of value, like diamonds or money. If they steal underwear it’s usually because they’re a freak, but you were only after clean ones. There’s no value in clean boxers, especially when there’s no way to prove to the owner. All the euphoria you need without half the consequences. What’s to lose? It’s not like he’s going to miss them, he’s rich. He can just buy some more. You jumped from the top of an apartment complex into a nearby tree and hopped from tree to tree until you reached the forest behind Wayne Manor. You dropped to the ground and ran until you reached the edge of the forest, then climbed a tree with branches near the wall of the Manor. You smiled, go time. You jumped behind the branch you were standing on, grabbed it, and used it to swing onto the ledge attached to the Manor. You dodged the security cameras as you ran across the ledge, and soon enough you were outside the window to a bedroom. You cracked the window and slipped inside. 

The room was littered. That’s really the only way to describe it. Coffee cups, mugs, crumpled up papers, pens, pencils, manilla file folders with lazily paperclipped scraps of paper inside. The room itself wasn’t as big as you thought it’d be; a full-size bed, desk, bookshelf, door left ajar to an also wrecked bathroom, and to the right of it, another door. The only thing that really implied richness was the high ceiling, dimly lit in the moonlight. You took a moment to look at the mysterious door, could it be a closet? You crept towards the door and began to turn the knob when you heard the floorboards outside of the room moan. You swung the door open, threw yourself inside, and shut yourself inside in one swift motion. You heard the door to the bedroom creak open, followed by a harsh murmur. 

“He’s alive Dick! I don’t care what you say! There’s proof out there and when I find it, you’re going to find yourself choking on your foot!”

An exasperated sigh.

“Tim, I’m worried about you. If you’re grieving-”

Tim’s voice rose to a yell, and it startled you. 

“IM NOT GRIEVING! I’M NOT GOING TO GRIEVE UNTIL I SEE PROOF HE’S DEAD! NOW WOULD IT KILL YOU TO GIVE ME SOME TIME IN MY ROOM?”

Your heart jumped into your throat when Tim slammed the door shut. You pressed your ear to the door and listened as Tim threw his clothes on the ground. You paid careful attention to how his footsteps got softer as he made his way to his bathroom. You allowed your breathing to relax a little when you heard water hitting the ground; he had turned on the shower. You shut your eyes and felt your heartrate ease. Wait, who’s dead? It couldn’t be THE Bruce Wayne, could it? It had been in the local news that he hadn’t been active in the public for a while, but you would never have guessed this! You pulled your knees close to your chest and took a moment to process that information. What else were these people hiding? 

Wait, he’s in the shower! Of course! He’s not going to be able to see you slip out! Besides, you were already in the closet, right? Back to the mission at hand. You took a moment to stand up, and then fumbled for a light switch. Found it! You flicked it upwards. The only thing that turned on was a lamp in the far corner, giving the room an eerie vibe. You found yourself staring at two rows of grey file cabinets on each wall, in a small rectangular room. Most of the drawers on the cabinets were open, with files sticking out in all kinds of odd directions. You looked at the ground and noticed that Tim had thrown some of them on the ground. You had to stop for a second, it took a conscious effort not to gasp. Who was this guy? After taking it all in, you noticed a wooden dresser that had been stained a deep chestnut at the far end of the room. Despite your curiosity of the file cabinets, there were more pressing matters. You crept across the room, careful not to disturb the papers scattered across the floor. You reached the dresser and opened the top drawer.

Eureka! You grabbed the first pair, noted the batman symbols arranged in a geometric pattern (ha), and shoved them deep into the pocket of your pants. You hop-scotched around the files again, flicked the light switch off and put your ear to the door. The water was still running, you were in the clear. You turned the knob, backed around the door, and exhaled a sigh of relief. You’d made it! You turned around to leave out the window, and found yourself making direct eye contact with Red Robin. 

\- - - -

You jumped, and you felt your eyes pop out of your head. Holy fuck!! You’re screwed!! You inhaled sharply, almost as if to scream, and Red Robin put a finger to his lips. “Shh, shh! Come with me!” He grabbed your hand and pulled you into the very room you just left. You wanted to talk but couldn’t seem to make words leave your mouth. Red Robin smirked. “So, you’re [Y/N], local thief. I know you think you’re smart for breaking into my case files, but I do have a way out of this for you.” He thinks you’re here for the files! And is giving you a loophole? You’ve never felt so lucky. You exhale and smile. “Anything.” He smiled. “Perfect.”

(tune in next time to see Red Robin and [Y/N] break into the Iceberg Lounge itself!)


End file.
